


Once There Was a Man Named Holland

by tzzzz



Series: Roo'verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Discussion of Abortion Politics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzzzz/pseuds/tzzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard and Holland were together before it all went down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once There Was a Man Named Holland

John smiled, spotting Leo from all the way across the hanger. He'd been hanging around a lot these days, even though he was technically supposed to be over on the other side of the base with the army people. John hoped that meant what he thought it meant, but he didn't dwell. He was getting a little too old to be playing he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not.

"Hey, Holland!" he shouted. "Finally get tired of the grunt life, or are you just over here bothering my guys for no good reason?"

"John," Leo replied, sauntering over in that way he had. "Just tired of sitting on my ass wondering if my favorite zoomie had finally succeeded in getting himself killed." Before John knew it, he was pressed back up against one of the birds, the mechanics steadfastly ignoring the little scene going on in front of them. They must have been used to it by now.

"Positive as always," John commented. Granted Leo's cynicism could get a little annoying sometimes, but the fact that Leo was one of the few men John had ever met that didn't take his bullshit made up for it.

"God, getting shot at does something to you, doesn't it? Every time you go out on one of those crazy rescue ops, you just get more attractive."

"It's your imagination, buddy," John replied, gasping into the kisses Leo was making down his jawline and neck. Every touch felt like electricity running up his spine. God did he hate BOQ housing with a fucking passion.

"No. It's not. John, I know I'm not really good at talking about my emotions."

John laughed. "That's one of your better qualities." John's medEvac team always teased him that he and Leo were like an emotionally challenged version of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"I know, but, um, you were out there for two days this time and I really missed you."

"I missed you too." It wasn't as hard to say as John had imagined.

"I love you, John. I'm not going to start sending flowers and holding hands all the time or anything. Don't worry. But I just wanted you to know."

John sighed, his knees suddenly going weak. They'd been dating for two years now and even though John knew the they wouldn't still be together if Leo didn't love him, it was a relief to hear. Such a goddamned relief he was almost shaking with it. "I love you too."

He pulled Leo in for a bruising kiss, almost crying out when Leo's fingers trailed down his chest, over the sensitive flesh were the first ridge of a pouch was starting to form. His father had told him about this, how the first gestation was such a wonder, but John had always stared at his flat chest in disbelief, doubting the genetic tests that confirmed him as a carrier. He could only imagine how it would have been back in the day before testing, when young men in noble families were forced to wait and hope that they would be able to carry on the family name.

"Jesus, John, you're sensitive today," Leo murmured. "Not that I'm complaining."

Now was as good a time as any. John smiled, the one he knew never failed to completely undo his lover every time, before giving him one final kiss. "That's because I'm gestating."

He laughed in surprise when Leo practically picked him up in his rush to get the into one of the privacy rooms on base, stopping to kiss almost every five feet and not caring about the other soldiers and what they thought of them. John knew there was only one thing they could think: look, a young couple in love.

***

John had considered not telling Leo until the incubation period, as was traditional, but Leo had buddied up so much to John's team that once he'd informed them and named his proxy, it would be only a matter of time before the neonate's donor found out. After a month and a half of Leo "checking up" on John, he had to wonder if it was the right decision, however. "You know there's a chance it won't be viable, right?" John asked worriedly, lying in his bunk with Leo curled around him, teasing the newly-formed pouch slit under John's shirt.

John thought back to his last conversation with his father. Patrick Sheppard had been happy to have his son finally carrying on the family line and getting out of the military (John had yet to drop that particular bomb) but his excitement and pride had been tempered by the knowledge that John's fiancee wasn't even carrier, let alone from noble blood. Maybe that's why Leo had been breaking all the rules. He wasn't used to the disappointment the way families like John's were.

"We're going to have a baby," Leo continued, completely oblivious to John's growing discomfort.

"You're going to jinx it."

Leo laughed, pulling John around to kiss him. "I'm not. Look, it's like this. The second I first saw you, I knew I wanted you and I was going to make you mine, regardless of what everyone else said about you being some unattainable imperial carrier who wouldn't look twice at a simple grunt like me. And that happened. And the second you told me about the baby, I got the exact same feeling. Everything's going to be fine, John. I know it."

"Now you're starting to make me feel like the cynical one."

Leo laughed, kissing John once again, entwining their legs on the bed and pulling John close enough that the sensitive skin of his pouch slit was pressed up between them, causing John to gasp. "Two more weeks and I'll really be able to start taking care of you the way you deserve."

John grimaced. He knew the way imperials were portrayed on soap operas and in those stupid harlequin romance novels. Men put them up on a pedestal to be worshipped and protected. In history, war had been the business of nobility, but now war was for the middle class and business was for people like John, waddling around in tailored suits, carrying their future heirs around the world first-class. He'd always thought that Leo wouldn't treat him any differently, but he was beginning to wonder if even his crass, cynical Captain Holland could have secretly bought into the stupid shit they sold to the masses in Disney movies and pouch-porn.

He pushed up and away, feeling suddenly cold, even huddled up to his lover in the middle of the goddamned desert. "I don't need to be taken care of."

"Joseph, father of God, John, I'm not trying to make you into my little house carrier. I just," he reached out for John's hand, gripping it tightly in his, "I love you and you have no idea how badly I want a family with you. I know a well as anyone how much you like your independence, and I won't try to take that from you, but I'm not from a noble background. I can't just turn off my emotions until the neonate reaches the pouch. I love it already."

John let out a choked gasp at that, at once realizing why he'd been so resistant to Leo's interpretation of the whole thing to begin with. "Me too," he whispered.

After kissing chastely for a few minutes, John pulled back. "After the birth, I'm not leaving the Air Force."

"I never expected you to. We can take a service-family package, get some leave for the both of us for the incubation and the first few months, then transfer somewhere nice like Greece, or Hawaii."

"Sound nice," John replied, settling back down on the bed and letting Leo spoon him. Maybe letting his lover take care of him wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

John was frantic. Why nobody had thought to pull him off duty yet was a mystery. Leo had never radioed back from the drop point. Nobody had heard from him or any of his team of Rangers for the past twelve hours and the brass weren't going to do anything about it. If John didn't make the effort to be especially nice to Leo's ground crew, he never would have even know he was missing. Fucking spec. ops.

He couldn't handle this. His stomach felt tight, his forehead hot with a frenzied need to get out there and do something. He couldn't just write his fiancee off as dead. He couldn't do that to the donor of his child. He couldn't. And of course the hormones were kicking in big time, leading to him sitting in his goddamned flight suit in the middle of his chopper balling his eyes out like a little girl. Shit. He punched the hard metal of the bird's frame, not feeling even that pain. He wasn't going to sit back and do nothing. Let them try to discharge him. After the baby was incubating, he'd take the stupid golden parachute back into civilian life if it meant having Leo back.

Resolved, John forced the tears to stop. He dried his eyes and buckled his seatbelt. They had him picking up some dignitaries and flying them over for a briefing. Shuttle service close to his labor window, with Lieutenant Stiles flying along as his proxy. Except Stiles was never particularly good at the punctuality part of the military, and the ground crew had wisely prepped the bird and scurried off to let him cry in peace.

A strange calm settled over John as he radioed command to announce his takeoff, lying through his teeth about orders to take off without Stiles in order to not keep the bigshots waiting.

It wasn't just because Leo was the donor of his child and probably the love of John's life. This was the right thing to do, regardless of who it was. Even if the brass didn't know better, John never left a man behind.

***

"John?" Leo croaked, his pretty face bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition, his jumpsuit caked with dirt and blood. He hadn't even gotten the wound on his leg wrapped up. But it was the look on his face - the accusation. John realized this was the first time Leo hadn't looked happy to see him. In fact, he looked horrified. "John, you shouldn't be out here."

"Not a problem," John replied, already yanking out a field bandage and ignoring the shaking in his hands at seeing his fiancee so pale and in pain. "I'll take the golden parachute route. You can probably get a medical discharge, from the look of it. My father will be more than happy to make a place for us with the company."

"No, John," Leo gasped out around the pain of the pressure John was putting on his wound. "You shouldn't be here because the baby--"

"Isn't even incubating yet, let alone alive. You are and you can't possibly expect me to just let you die out here. You would do the same for me and you know it. Now, do you think you can stand?"

Leo sighed, looking defeated on top of half-dead. "Stand, sure. Walk, we'll see."

"Good."

"Where the rest of your crew?" Leo gasped. "Stiles?"

"Ditched him?"

"And the bird?"

"Small arms fire hit my tail rotter. Lucky shot."

"Great. Now we're both going to die out here."

"Yeah. There's the Holland I know. Always so positive. Now, let's get out of here."

***

They were hiking along a ridge of sand when John felt it, a cramping pain in his stomach so intense that he almost cried out. The next thing he knew, he was at the bottom of the hill, Leo sprawled out and panting beside him.

"What happened?" Leo asked. "John, was it the baby?"

Oh shit. This was the second day of John's labor window. He hadn't been hungry two nights ago or really the next day. And then Leo had gone missing. He hadn't eaten anything in forty-eight hours. He'd hit his hand and hadn't felt anything - minor numbness in the extremities. He hadn't had his channel flush out so far as he could remember, but then again, he'd been practically sleep-walking since he got the news of Leo. He hadn't noticed the other symptoms. He hadn't checked for the telltale pinkish fluid the last time he went to the bathroom. That had definitely felt like a contraction, however. Not that John could do anything about it with the Taliban closing in."

"No, I think I just tripped. Clumsy me."

Leo wanted to question it. John could tell. But his lover's energy was fading. If they didn't get back soon, then they were both in real trouble.

"Are we even going in the right direction?" Leo asked when John hauled him up.

"West."

"Looks east to me."

"It's west."

"Cause there's a whole mass of taliban just east of here and I don't know if we should be taking directions from the guy who managed to get lost in the D.C. mall, with the world's largest phallic compass needle for guidance."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" John replied.

"Nope," Leo grinned. John couldn't stand to see the look of affection on his face. They were soldiers in a combat zone right now, not lovers, and certainly not yet parents.

"I guess we'll go your way, then. But if we stumble into Osama Bin Laden, I know who's to blame."

"Blame? They'll give me a goddamned medal."

***

It wasn't much more than a small rock formation, but it provided enough cover for now. Leo had been right and they were walking into the setting sun. Leo was still bleeding, his energy starting to drag. And John's contractions were getting worse. Just like the stupid movies, only instead of a hugely pregnant woman going into labor at the wrong time, it was John. He knew the timetable. Since neonates were born so small and through an orifice easily able to accommodate them, most of the labor process in males was the womb opening up and the fetus detaching itself from the remains of the yolk sack. There wouldn't be any warning and it had been three hours already. John probably had less than another hour before the transfer to the pouch had to take place.

"Leo," he said, shaking his fiancee awake. "There's something I need to tell you."

"John?" He sounded confused, weary. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a little, um, in labor."

Leo sobbed at that, a sound so painful John had never head anything like it before. "Give me the gun, John."

"Leo. We need to keep moving. You've lost a lot of blood. The brass was never going to send a rescue mission. We need to get somewhere safer before we radio for extraction. That means probably another six miles at least."

"John," Leo gripped John's arm, smearing it with blood. "You're body is going to do this whether you keep moving or not. It only takes the neonate three minutes to make it to the pouch. And I'm guessing you've been feeling contractions since you "tripped" three hours ago, which means we need to give it less than half an hour, max. I'd planned to do this in nice hotel room back in Kandahar with the videotapes and candles and a massage and relaxing music: the works, but since you decided to be difficult, I guess we'll have to settle for some rocks in the middle of the desert instead."

" _I_ decided to be difficult. I'm not the one who got his helicopter blown up in the first place."

"No, you crashed yours second. But we're here and we're going to do this, so give me your gun and move me over where I can take lookout and then go back and take off your clothes and make sure our baby doesn't suffer for both our stupid decisions."

He was right, of course. Leo probably needed the rest anyhow. It was just half an hour. Once John had Leo settled, his lover pulled him close for a quick kiss, not more than a brief mingling of stale breath. "Whatever happens, John. I love you."

"I love you too."

***

John's JAG attorney was a petite, perky blonde, probably not more than a few years out of law school. His father had assigned one of the in-house attorneys to the case as well. John hadn't spoken a word to the man, clearly an imperial carrier himself, in the post-incubation pouch phase. John couldn't even stand to look at him and the baby that occasionally poked its head out of the slit in his stupid Armani Paternity suit. He had no idea if they were coordinating. He didn't care. He just felt numb. When the taliban had come upon their position, he'd thought it had been a choice between Leo and the baby. He'd never considered the possibility that he'd lose both.

"It says here that you were gestating at the time you disobeyed orders, sir," the JAG officer said. Lieutenant Wilson, he thought was here name.

"Yeah." He didn't want to talk to her. Let them lock him up. He didn't care. Leavenworth seemed better than going back to Dave and his pity and his father and his insistence that he try again so long as he was in the incredibly fertile phase right after a failed incubation. John wasn't going to try again. He was _never_ going to try again. Leo was it. He was the one, and John had lost both him and their child. There wasn't anything left for him.

He stood up, walking over to the mini bar to pull out a mini bottle of whiskey. At least the Air Force had let him stay in a hotel room instead of just locking him up. But anywhere in D.C. was a prison. The Washington monument, the compass John never could seem to follow, Arlington, where Leo was now buried, the Air and Space Museum, where they'd gone on their first official date.

"Sir, I know this is all very painful for you. You lost someone close to you. But you took possession of government property, disobeyed a direct order, destroyed that government property behind enemy lines on an unauthorized rescue operation and avoided and therefore willfully disobeyed your labor proxy, who you were assigned to keep exactly this kind of thing from happening. Not to mention that your case could be the perfect vehicle to get the military's traditional rules of active-service gestation overruled, and let the artificial-birth lobby roll back the timetable for medical intervention, therefore reducing a woman's right to abortion."

"Would that be such a bad thing, Lieutenant?" If they'd just pulled John from duty earlier, he and Leo could have applied for paternity leave and Leo never would have flown that mission. He'd still be alive.

"With all due respect, it would be for women. Since we don't have the same kind of choice that you do. But you're an imperial. You don't even need a woman, so why should you care?"

John didn't have the energy for the abortion debate, as old as modern medicine had known that the stages of male pregnancy had no biological relationship their female counterpart. Nor did he care about the supposed decrease in the number of nobles taking wives since the advent of genetic testing. He barely had the will to fight his own case.

"You're right. I don't care and I certainly don't care enough to sue to government over what happened, so you don't have to worry about that."

"If they lock you up, you father will sue under your title of nobility for acts against the furtherance of the name, or so Mr. Feldstein has assured me. And since you are his only name-carrying descendant, he will have standing. So we need to win this case and in order to do that, I need a client who is willing to fight for himself."

"If I win, can I stay in the Air Force?" Flying was the only thing he had left now, at least if he stayed in, he'd still have that.

"You won't be allowed anywhere near where you can find trouble even if we win, but yes, I think that's doable. So, you were gestating. How far along?"

"I was in the second day of my labor window."

"That's very good, sir. We can work with that. I can get witnesses that will testify to labor sickness. Imperials, especially, seem to have a desire to seek out their donors when they are preparing for the transfer. You should have been pulled from duty the second they heard about Captain Holland. That's enough for contributory fault."

"I would have gone back for him even if we weren't lovers. They were wrong to just leave him out there."

Lieutenant Wilson gave him a searching look. "I'm sorry, sir, but I doubt that. You wouldn't have even heard of an army special-ops mission gone awry if you weren't his fiancee."

"And if I wasn't gestating, I would have been the guy they put on standby to fix Army FUBAR situations."

"Let's not play the what if game. Temporary insanity from something like labor sickness is a defense and if you sign an agreement to go on temporary leave should you ever choose to gestate in the future, there's no reason not to keep you in."

"That won't be a problem."

"So, you were two days in. When did you actually start your labor?"

John winced, reaching for another bottle of whiskey only to feel Lieutenant Wilson's small hand gripping his arm tight. "I know this is difficult, John, but I need you to help me here."

"After we were already on the ground, I guess. I had all the pre-labor symptoms. I was so stressed out about Leo that I didn't notice. Everyone was giving me space, my proxy included. _No one_ noticed."

"And the neonate?"

John felt tears springing to his eyes. The hormones were out of his system, damnit. He shouldn't cry. There was less than a 75% chance anyway. He didn't even know what had happened to it, he was so busy shooting and trying to drag Leo to safety. He had no idea if it had even been viable.

"It didn't make it."

The lieutenant nodded. "I think that's all for now. Tomorrow I'll want to get your impressions on Lieutenant Stiles and anyone else who had a chance to intervene. I think we have a good chance of winning this."

John nodded, the numbness descending rapidly once again. He'd buried Leo. His pouch was empty and still raw. He wanted to get out of here. The heat in D.C. reminded him of Afghanistan. He longed for snow, ice as barren and cold as he was. "Thank you," he managed, extending his hand for Lieutenant Wilson to shake.

"You're welcome." Her hand was warm in his. "John, I'm so sorry for your loss."


End file.
